Chapter 10 #2
That earned him a few snickers and comments from the unmated guys, and Ruvon wondered whether they were really so clueless about serious relationships, jealous, or pretending, just to get a rise out of him.
"Do you have your vows prepared?" Kalugal asked.
Ruvon sighed. "I've been working on them for weeks. Ingrid approved the final draft, but I have a feeling she was just tired of me bugging her with my rewrites."
"It doesn't have to be anything fancy." Atzil returned from the living room with the platter of food. "As long as it's from the heart, Arezoo will love it."
Max, who hadn't said much so far, leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. "Those damn vows are reason enough not to get married. Kyra and I are perfectly fine without an official ceremony."
Ruvon arched a brow. "Really? Because Arezoo told me that you were talking about getting married once Kyra is done with her rebel work."
Max grimaced. "That's decades away. Maybe centuries. She will not rest until the Kurds get their own country."
That was indeed a lofty goal that would probably never materialize because the Brotherhood preferred things the way they were. The less stability there was in the world, the better for them.
"Can you believe it?" he asked quaintly.
Max frowned. "What, that you're getting married or that Kyra is going to fight forever?"
"That Navuh was captured by the clan and that he's no longer in power."
Kalugal grimaced. "Don't remind me. My mother keeps throwing out hints that Lokan and I should pay him a visit and try to reconcile with him. She doesn't want to accept that we don't want anything to do with him, and he doesn't want anything to do with us."
When the doorbell rang, Ruvon assumed it was Boleck, who was the only one missing. "I'll get it."
He set his glass down, walked back into the house, and opened the front door.
There was no one there, but down on the doorstep was a square box wrapped in white paper that was secured with a blue ribbon.
He lifted the box and carried it to the back porch, where everyone had stopped talking and looked at him and what was in his hands.
"An early wedding present?" Shamash asked.
"I don't know." Ruvon pulled out the card that was attached to the box. "It's from Arezoo, and it says to open the box right now."
"Then open it." Kalugal waved with his cigar. "Don't keep us in suspense."
Ruvon set the box on the table next to the platter and the bottle and carefully removed the white paper. Inside was a flat wooden box, plain and lacquered, with another card folded on top of it.
I wanted to get you something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.
My mother told me that this is not how the tradition works because these items are for the bride, but I told her that the clan has no rules for weddings and that we are free to make them up as we go.
The card is new. The box is old. The poem inside is borrowed, and you can give it back to me tonight. The ribbon is blue.
I love you forever and beyond.
Arezoo.
Ruvon read it twice and felt his throat close up.
"Well?" Rufsur prompted.
"It's a card."
"What does it say?" Dandor asked.
"It's private."
"Of course it's private, but what does it say?" Dandor insisted.
Shaking his head, Ruvon set the card down and opened the wooden box. Inside, on a bed of dark velvet, lay a small, folded square of paper tied with a thin blue ribbon.
He untied it carefully, set the ribbon aside, and unfolded the paper.
It was one of the poems that she had read to him at the café months ago, the 'Garden of Becoming.' She had copied it out by hand in her careful, slightly slanted script, translating it from the original Persian into English.
This is the one about freedom. It's about us.
Ruvon stared at the paper for a long moment, not reading anymore, just looking at her handwriting, and felt eight pairs of eyes watching him from the half circle of chairs and couches.
"It's a poem," he said.
"Ah." Kalugal nodded sagely as if this was exactly what he'd thought it would be.
Ruvon refolded the paper carefully along the original creases, tied the blue ribbon back around it, and tucked the small bundle into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, against his chest. He picked up the card and put it into the same pocket. Then he sat back down and picked up his cigar.
"It's out." Hivak handed him the torch lighter. "You need to light it again."
Ruvon brought the flame to the cigar, drew in another careful mouthful of smoke, tasting the rich tobacco again, and felt the small square of folded paper resting against his chest through the fabric of his jacket.
Rufsur lifted his glass. "To the groom."
"To the groom," eight other voices answered.
Ruvon lifted his glass. "For most of my life, I didn't imagine a day like this, and I'm not talking about just the wedding.
I mean, having you here with me, smoking cigars, shooting the breeze, and passing the time with my friends.
" He had not planned a speech, but these words needed to be said.
"Most of us here just assumed that we would never get to do this sort of thing because males like us didn't deserve it. "
"To you all," he said.
Other than Max, everyone sitting with him on the back porch had thought the same thing at one time or another.
Max was a clan member, a Guardian, one of the good guys.
But so were they, kind of. The stain of having been Doomers would never be completely cleansed, regardless of the fact that none of them had chosen to be born in the Dormant enclosure and inducted into Navuh's army at thirteen.
None of them had chosen the life they had been forced to live until Kalugal had offered them a ticket out of hell.
But Arezoo had accepted him despite the sins of his past, and she believed in him.
He vowed to spend the rest of his immortal life making sure that she never regretted choosing him.